


Arsenic and Go Stones

by Ver (verloren1983)



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-21
Updated: 2007-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verloren1983/pseuds/Ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ogata dies. Someone, somewhere, laughs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arsenic and Go Stones

**Author's Note:**

> There was a short period of time in Hikago fandom's history when people wrote drabbles in which Ogata died in various ways. Don't ask, I don't know how this started, but I blame Pye. This was my contribution.

Ogata Seiji died of a massive heart attack not three hours after finally winning the Honinbou title. He had collapsed unexpectedly while leaving the Go institute, desperately clutching at his chest, and he was gone before anyone was even able to call an ambulance.

Hayashi Takao sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. This was getting him nowhere. It was obvious that the man had been poisoned, murdered, but all his investigating had turned up nothing. The only thing he _had_ found out was that most people had thought Ogata creepy. Especially the Shindou kid, who had practically run out of the room screaming every time the name was mentioned.

Despite this, though, no one seemed to have wanted Ogata dead. Even ex lovers, of which there were many of both sexes, hadn't wished him any ill will. Go opponents had respected his skill at the game, even if most of them were usually crushed by the higher dan, and the ones who weren't appreciated the challenge. Takao sighed again. He knew there was something major he was overlooking. There just had to be- but after having gotten five hours of sleep in as many days, he just couldn't see what the hell it was.

*~*~*~*~*

Not so very far away, a man sat in a chair with a cigar between his lips. He removed it and blew out smoke slowly, as if enjoying himself immensely, and then put out the cigar as he contemplated the events of the last few days.

The laughter that followed, had anyone heard it, would have been best described as the evil cackle of someone truly insane.

Or like an old monkey. Either worked.

 


End file.
